Pardon the Eruption
by TheWormThatTurns
Summary: Pardon the Eruption - Or: A Harsh Lesson in Biology. An accident in Potions class makes Harry Potter a father in the worst way imaginable. What happens afterward is reality. Sort of. A parody of Mpreg fics. Rating for mild swearing, innuendo, unwieldy names, and an unneeded epilogue. Not slash.
1. A Misconception

~o~

Chapter One: A Misconception

~o~

The year: beginning of fourth year.

The setting: Potions class.

The scene: Harry Potter ground dried goat bladders with his mortar and pestle, taking care to use exactly forty-three right hand twists or else he would never have hopes of graduating this school within his lifetime without learning the bare minimum about the sacred and subtle art of potions. God, his inner voice was starting to sound like Snape. Maybe it was time to end it all before he stopped washing his hair and brushing his teeth.

As Harry eyed Neville's roiling cauldron a mere table away, contemplating what would happen if he downed the vile-looking brew in one go, two very _un_-ground goat bladders flew across the classroom. These landed in his cauldron with a pair of plonks and ominous hisses.

'Excellent form, sir,' Gregory Goyle said to a smirking Draco Malfoy. 'Right in the centre both times. Your hand-eye coordination is stunningly superb.'

'Of course it is, you gibbering buffoon.'

'As you say, my glorious and impeccably-dressed master,' Goyle said solemnly before returning to his book on advanced physics. Muggles, filthy as they were, did have some ingenious ideas - and Malfoy didn't care what he read so long as he didn't discuss it with him. Honestly, the ideas contained within these pages could positively revolutionise Time-Turners. He briefly allowed himself to envision travelling back to the night of his "friend's" conception and creating an untimely disturbance on the grounds of Malfoy Manor ...

'Stir your blasted potion, Greg. Snape's coming this way.'

Goyle sighed and marked his place in his book. Potions were nothing compared with mastering the infinity of the universe, but he supposed he would have to make do until he finally graduated and was free of the dangerous and outdated institution British wizards dared call a school. 'Yes, sir.'

At that moment, Harry realised he had ground the goat bladders forty-three times. More or less. Maybe. This was close enough.

He scooped a measure and dropped it into his cauldron. Now for the clockwise, anti-clockwise, clockwise turns ... Glancing to his textbook, he saw that the potion should have been 'the colour of eels under the new moon', whatever that meant - dark probably. The substance in his cauldron was bubblegum pink. He held back a groan.

He quickly proceeded to the next step, all too aware of Snape's nearing footfalls. Maybe the addition of shattered chicken eggs would darken up the liquid.

Odd red spots appeared in the brew.

Okay, if not that, then the step that involved dropping in a rabbit's foot. Hope died as the potion grew to a lovely shade of puce. More startling was the way it bubbled and frothed. The liquid surged out of the cauldron with a tremendous boom. Harry didn't have time to scream.

~o~

He woke on the floor very groggy and very fat.

Or at least his stomach was. Looking up, he saw that Snape was staring down at him with - horror of horrors - _concern_. And amusement. Because Snape was, at heart, an unrepentant knob. The concern was quickly covered by his usual caustic derision, of course.

'Mr Potter,' he said, 'it seems that you are in the family way.'

There was a volley of laughter. Harry could even hear Ron and Hermione trying to smother their chuckles. What was so funny? Family way? What did that even ... Wait. Oh God. No.

'W-What. No. It can't ... that isn't possible.'

A thin, nasty smile broke open Snape's lips. His dour voice continued ringing off the walls of the dungeon classroom. An amazing feat considering he hardly ever raised his voice. 'No. It isn't possible. This is likely just some abdominal swelling caused by whatever travesty you were brewing.'

Harry wasn't pregnant. The bell end was just winding him up. Thank God, uh, Merlin. As the young wizard tried to sit up, he groaned and pressed a hand to his stomach. There was an odd fluttering near his navel.

'Don't move, Potter,' Snape said. His eyes were black and fierce, wand raised over the student. 'I need to perform some diagnostic spells.'

'Why?'

'Because despite being relatively certain that this is nothing more than the culmination of your clumsy hand and lack of reading comprehension, I've never seen this sort of reaction before with this potion. Any wizard worth his weight in Galleons doesn't just move someone around after an undocumented side effect crops up.'

That did not sound good. If the greasy git was at a loss, then something had gone terribly wrong. There was something more that he didn't seem to be saying.

He was probably just biting back the worst of his comments.

With a sneer and a casual flick of his wrist, Snape's wand began to move. The short jabs grew more complex. Lights appeared in the air, forming symbols. Some looked like runes. Others were unrecognisable.

Harry couldn't read any of them. He nearly moved his head to ask Hermione if she knew, but a wave of nausea blasted through him. Several minutes were spent trying not to vomit all over himself.

Worry flickered across Snape's face, more troubling than the first time he showed it because this didn't go away.

'W-what is it, professor?' Harry said, utterly forgetting his usual rudeness toward the man. His voice sounded almost foreign to him without it.

Snape ignored the question. 'Granger, retrieve Madam Pomfrey. Now. Weasley, fetch the Headmaster. Both of you tell them that an Event That Will Never Ever Occur in My Lifetime or Any One Else's has happened.' He stared at both the students in turn. 'Those words exactly. Understand?'

Hermione and Ron nodded before they each rushed from the classroom.

'The rest of you, out into the corridor. Go.'

No one argued.

'Except you, Malfoy.'

The blond-haired boy stopped, as did his lackeys.

'I didn't ask for the rest of the dream team. Leave. Shut the door behind you, Goyle.' When that was done, the professor quickly cast several spells over Harry.

'What are those?' the boy said.

'Shut up. I must concentrate.' Snape looked to Malfoy. 'Place all the potions in stasis. Quietly.'

Malfoy did so with a sullen look firmly in place.

Something moved in Harry's swollen stomach; whatever it was pressed against his stretched robes. He propped himself up on his elbows. Horrific pain struck him hard enough to make his breath catch. 'What's happening? W-what's wrong with me?'

'You're pregnant.'

Malfoy nearly choked to death laughing. If only he would.

'You're the father, Mr Malfoy. Congratulations,' Snape said as if announcing a painful verdict.

It was, really. The students stopped shrieking in outrage once a few stinging spells were sent their way.

'How can this happen?' Malfoy said. His volume level was a touch under a banshee's wail and a hair over bloody murder.

The professor looked thoughtful. Casting a few other spells - these ones seemed to lift the pain from Harry entirely - he said, 'Likely it was due to you tossing those goat bladders into Potter's cauldron.'

'Er, you saw that?'

'And you didn't stop it!?' Harry said.

A muscle twitched in Snape's cheek. It looked as if he was holding back a smile. 'What, you don't believe pranks build character?'

'This is a bit far for a prank, wouldn't you say?'

'Judging by the spilled powder on the desk, I would _say_ your over-ground bladders also played a part, Potter.' Looking to Malfoy, he added, 'Handling the bladders without wearing your gloves was stupidity beyond the usual levels. The introduction of foreign skin cells to such a potion ... yes, that could have done it in combination with the over-grinding ... the velocity of the throw as well ...' Snape lapsed into mumbling.

That was all Harry needed to hear, however. He twisted his head so he could face Malfoy, his green eyes flashing. 'You did this to me!'

The other boy turned as pale as his hair was. He was an aristocratic caricature of fear. 'It was an accident! I didn't mean for it to happen.' As he stuttered along, he slowly backed toward the door. He nearly tripped over a dozen desks on the way. 'I was just having fun. That's all, I swear. I didn't know that it would turn into ... this.'

'This is all your FAULT!' Harry tried getting up again. His middle protested. Everything felt as if it was shredding inside, even through the spells Snape had cast.

'It was an accident.'

'Oh, so what, you _accidentally_ turned me into a bloated mess? You wanted this to happen.'

Malfoy's back hit the wall. 'I didn't know. I didn't know it would become this. I thought it was just all good fun.'

Snape shook his head. This was getting out of hand, quickly, and in a situation that involved male pregnancy and an instantly formed baby, that was saying a lot. He summoned a pillow and tucked it under Harry's head. 'Don't move, Potter. Please.'

'Why are you being so nice to me?' the boy said in a suspicious tone.

The Potions master didn't have a nice bone in his body. It was impossible. Just like a man becoming pregn -

Damn it.

'Bloody hell, something is wrong, isn't it?' Harry said. 'Tell me what it is, Sn - professor. Tell me. Am I going to die?'

Snape said nothing for once.

That confirmed it. Dread settled over Harry. A bit of relief mixed in there as well. There would finally be time enough to rest. 'Huh. I really am going to die. Well.' He looked to Malfoy. 'If it's a girl, name it after my mother. If it's a boy ... I've always liked the name Todd.'

_'Todd?'_ both Malfoy and Snape said at once.

'Also, I name my godfather Sirius as guardian. My child ...' Harry grimaced as something pinched near his navel. '... or children will inherit whatever I have.' He stared levelly at Malfoy and mustered all the loathing he could manage. 'You're not getting a split Sickle of my fortune, you pointy-faced inbred bastard.' With pain in his voice, he added, 'You're my witness to that, Snape. I can't believe I'm saying this but ... I'm trusting you, understand? It's for lack of other options, so don't think this means that I'm not going out believing you're a slimy berk with a hidden agenda. You're still worth one and half of Malfoy.'

The professor nodded. Pretending not to notice the perplexed look Malfoy gave him, he said, 'I will uphold your last wishes, Mr Potter.'

With that, Harry Potter croaked on the spot because men without wombs can't give birth.

~o~

Somewhere in the British Isle, a malformed snake-snouted mockery of a baby calling itself Voldemort cackled in delight as he felt his enemy's presence fade from his mind. Across the room, Peter Pettigrew wet himself in terror.


	2. A Misconception: Redux

~o~

Chapter Two: A Misconception: Redux

~o~

For reasons he found unfathomable for the rest of his life, Severus Snape earned an Order of Merlin, Third Class, for performing the first magical C-section on a male mother. Perhaps it was due to the irrationality of a nation in mourning for its golden boy ... or maybe it was the typical bumbling ineptitude of the Ministry at work. He didn't argue against it as the prize money was nice. For reasons he chalked up to _insanity_ induced by grief, Sirius Black named him the godfather of Harry's daughter, Lily Narcissa Malfoy-Potter.

Malfoy might not have been able to choose the first name, but he ruddy well had input on the rest. And his surname came first by alphabetical right and absolute persistence on his part.

~o~

Though the Boy Who Lived was dead, the world moved on. The fact that the death of the celebrated Harry Potter occurred in the classroom of a former Death Eater and due to the 'bumbling' of a once-accused Death Eater's child caused a stir in some sections of the community.

Rumours spread. Conspiracy theories abounded. Vigilance was constant. Sales of _The Quibbler_ went through the roof.

A bitter public willing to believe anything met the eventual return of Voldemort. His supporters were found and flogged in the streets.

~o~

Lupin pitched in raising the brat. A dog, a werewolf, and the great bat of Hogwarts were the best parents a witch could have, even if they constantly bickered. Sometimes her father they nicknamed 'ferret' visited, usually on her birthday, holidays, and every other weekend.

Today Lily Narcissa was five.

Her living father had come to visit, bringing a stack of presents to Twelve Grimmauld Place. Seeing her at this age was a shock, like looking at a sister. Minus one thing. In a way, he could also see Potter. That realisation had struck him like a hard slap. Potter, no, _Harry_, deserved to be with his daughter. The boy hadn't been that bad when it came down to it. Were it not for Houses, they might have been friends. Were it not for Malfoy, Harry would have still been alive.

Seeing death, causing it, however unintentionally, had told him just how horrifying life could be. Choosing path different from his father's was difficult, but he did it for his daughter. Their daughter. He had never particularly liked Harry. Now, as a young adult and member of the Order, he could at least appreciate the other boy's perspective on things.

Harry Potter had been ... okay.

The girl in front of him needed to know the full truth. Eventually, he would tell her the whole sorry tale. Not today. She needed only good things now, needed to think that everyone in her family was still a hero, that morality could be black and white. For now, he could help honour her other father.

'Did I ever tell you that you have your father's eyes?' Malfoy said as he twirled her around in a hug.

The little girl nodded once she was standing on the floor. She pulled on her colourless, straight locks. 'And I have my ferret daddy's hair!'

He sighed and gave a dirty look toward his mother's cousin, Sirius Black, who pretended to drink tea with false innocence shining on his face. Remus Lupin coughed politely into his hand, but that didn't hide his grin. His wife, Tonks, Malfoy's _other_ relative in the room, openly laughed. Snape refused to meet his eyes as one corner of his mouth ticked up.

So much for _everyone_ gaining a little maturity and wisdom through the years.

~o~

Voldemort looked down at his robes, now dripping with a pink potion. Whatever the Granger woman had splashed him with had no ill effects except for a heavily distended stomach. This was the efforts of the so-called 'brilliant' witch? He began to laugh. A lightning bolt of pain ripped through his abdomen, cutting his high giggle short.

'What have you done?' he said.

She tossed the potion vial almost carelessly away from herself. It shattered on impact against the floor of the Great Hall. 'I've killed you. Be sure to thank Harry for helping discover this little invention.'

'Hermione, you didn't,' her gangly red-haired friend said. His face was the colour of turned milk. He seemed ready to be ill.

'I had no choice,' she answered. 'This was the only way. And it's _Professor_ Granger while I'm in these walls, even to my ex-boyfriend.'

Beside the young woman, her allies looked horrified. Even Dumbledore had widened eyes and an ashen face. The face of Severus Snape the traitor went from its usual sallow tint to a sickly green. The entire Order of the Phoenix collectively took a step back.

'This can't be reversed, my girl,' the Headmaster said.

'I know.'

Voldemort staggered. His wand clattered to the floor. He slowly lowered himself to sit on a nearby bench. Looking at the table, he saw it bore familiar shades of green and silver. Home at last. His rightful place, as it had always been, as it would always be. One day the whole of Hogwarts would have those two colours alone. Something moved inside him and each flutter of it was painful. The woman had seemingly infected him with a parasite. 'It doesn't matter w-what you've done ... what tortures you inflict ... I won't die.'

She gave a small, almost sad smile. 'You will.'

'I am Lord Voldemort. I live. I am im -'

Several objects rained down at his feet as she removed them from her absurdly tiny purse. There was the diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, twisted as if scorched by a terrible heat; his grandfather's ugly ring; the locket that had belonged to Salazar Slytherin ... every last Horcrux, down to the decapitated corpse of Nagini. Huh. So that was where the damned snake went.

'Immortal?' Granger said. 'Not anymore.'

_'No.'_ All his work, his decades of work and toil, lay before him useless on the floor. The sacrifices did not matter. His efforts did not matter.

The monster inside him kicked violently, and he saw the witch smile.

'Since I know how "fond" you are of your name - your _true_ name, Tom - I'm going to name it after you.'

He locked eyes with her and she did not look away. In the light of that steady gaze, he felt something that he hadn't suffered for decades: the complete fear of a child toward his elders. He half expected her to set a cupboard on fire or to send him to the nearest corner to think about what he'd done. And this she inspired in him when she was only twenty or so. The things she might do at his age ... those would turn the world inside out, of that he had no doubt.

'Name what?' he said.

She sauntered over to him, plucking up his wand on the way. 'Our child.'

_Be sure to thank Harry._ That was what she had said moments ago. He realised all too late what she meant. No. It could not be. His abdomen burst in an endless ache beyond that of any Crucio. He saw red light behind his eyelids before all went black.


	3. Still Makes More Sense than Mpreg

~o~

Chapter Three: Still Makes More Sense than Mpreg

~o~

Eleven years later.

The setting: Hogwarts Express.

The scene: Sixth year Lily Narcissa opened a darkened compartment. All her friends were jammed in together, leaving her out of a spot amongst civilised people. Only one place happened to be empty. Those that were half full had sorts she didn't like, the kind of people who either gawked or jeered. She scrambled inside the seemingly empty room and flung herself and her floating trunk onto a seat.

A throat cleared and a voice spoke up. 'You nearly crushed me.'

She looked over her trunk and saw a pair of dark eyes watching her. She pushed her pale fringe out of her eyes. It drifted right back. Guess it was overdue for a trim. 'Er, sorry. Didn't see you there.'

The boy raised an eyebrow, a move she could never master no matter how many times she tried.

'I really didn't.' She stood to move her trunk to one of the racks. After pulling open the curtains, she took a seat opposite her fellow traveller. 'Didn't break anything, did you?'

'No thanks to you.'

My, oh my, what a little git.

For a first year, his clothes were unusually tidy. His hair was dark and slightly wavy. The only exploitable flaw about the swot was that his front teeth seemed a tad overlarge. Making fun of those choppers would be too easy. Creativity was preferred. A Wrinkle Jinx on his school robes would probably send him into fits. God, this little demon was going to be fun to prank. She wouldn't make him cry. Much.

'What's your name?' she said.

'Tom Marvolo Harry Riddle-Granger-Weasley,' he said in an authoritative tone that was out of place on someone his age. Creepy. 'Tom Riddle III, if you wish to be technical and Tom Granger-Weasley if you wish to talk with my mother, but it is Tom if you want to be in my company. It is never, in any circumstance whatsoever, Tommy.'

The name Granger sounded slightly familiar and the Weasley one was _infamous_ thanks to a certain joke shop. The name Riddle was odd but it didn't sound like a wizarding name. 'Right. Nice to meet you, I guess.'

He stuck out his right hand. 'And you are?'

'Lily Narcissa.'

There was another eyebrow raise. How did anyone do that?

She held back a sigh and added, 'Malfoy-Potter.'

'_The _Malfoy-Potter?'

Oh Christ, here it was. The fawning. Couldn't people get over who her father and dad were after all these years?

Tom did nothing of the sort. Instead, he opened the book he had - a copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ she saw with a snort - and flipped to a certain section. In an idle way, he said, 'I think you will be interested to find that we have something in common, Miss Malfoy-Potter.'

'Yeah?'

He turned a page. 'Do the words "Eruptive Pregnancy Elixir" and the Boy Who Killed His Father mean anything to you?'

Her mouth formed an 'O'.

'Y-you're ...' she began, unable to say anything more. The boy was _that_ Tom Marvolo Harry Riddle-Granger-Weasley, the son of Voldemort and an old school acquaintance of both her fathers, Hermione Granger, the hero of the second war and the woman who had inexplicably married _both_ the owners of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in a ceremony that had perplexed and infuriated Wizarding Britain for months. (Glitter was a pain to pick out of hair, after all, especially when it reproduced at such a rapid rate.)

She was sitting next to the spawn of the Dark Lord.

God, this was almost as disturbing as the time Uncle Sirius fed the Giant Squid a love potion and it decided to romance Hogwarts Castle. Or the time Sirius married an entire co-gender professional Quidditch team from Canada. Or the that month he hexed Uncle Remus into total (yet temporary) baldness and obtained photographic proof that werewolves were more frightening _without_ their fur. Or when he came home from the neighbours' with a look of shame and a box of suspiciously black puppies ...

Although the current situation _was_ pretty close to the day her godfather Severus and Luna Lovegood were engaged, now that she thought about it. No one was expecting that, possibly least of all Severus.

(Aunt Luna's proposal was a bit strange, but lovely. She had a nice singing voice. Her choreography skills needed work, however.)

And it wasn't as nearly as inexplicable as her dad Draco marrying Millicent Bulstrode after years of secretly pining after the woman.

(Three years before, they had a daughter who was quite ordinarily named Emma, breaking both their families' traditions of giving hideous, impractical, or unpronounceable names to their offspring.)

But it was also as strange as the fortnight where Aunt Tonks decided to take on the appearance of her husband Remus from the shoulders up all because of an argument they had. She had been pregnant at the time and decided to visit Diagon Alley. He still hadn't lived it down.

In fact, the whole romance thing was weird. Lily Narcissa decided then and there that she wasn't even going to try when it came to that. It was just too complicated, horrifying, and taxing.

She was never, ever, not in a million years, going to fall in love.

'The circumstances of my birth are not my fault,' Tom said, unknowingly interrupting her thoughts, 'just as the circumstances of yours cannot be blamed on you.'

She was silent a moment as she digested this. Mostly she was trying to figure out all the big words he liked using. 'Right. So ... are you ... you know ...'

'Evil?' he said with disdain remarkable for a first year. 'Given my age, that sort of pronouncement says more about you than it does me.'

'Er, I ...'

He shook his head. Giving up on his book, he turned his gaze toward her and said, 'You're a Hufflepuff, correct?'

Her cheeks grew hot. She was used to this sort of comment. No one thought very much of her House, even if it had won the Cup for the past three years running. 'Yeah, and what of it?'

'Why didn't you go into Gryffindor? For that matter, why aren't you in Slytherin? Common knowledge says you have a higher chance of being in one of the two due to heritage.'

'Well ... I ...'

A memory flashed through her head. She recalled a ragged voice telling her that she would do great things in either of those Houses, more so than either of her fathers ever had. She had refused. Family was more important to her than legacy.

'I made another choice.'

'A choice.' He nodded. 'Choices matter. Fate doesn't. Neither is written in stone.'

She didn't know what to say to that.

The solemn boy reopened his book and began to read. The rest of the train ride continued in relative silence for the two students.

~o~

Whatever the Sorting Hat said to Tom Riddle III later that evening, he never shared with her during the two years they were concurrently at school. In the end, she clapped at for him more loudly than anyone else did in the Great Hall. It was the least she could do when the boy had jinxed the Hat into muteness. She hated those bloody songs. Maybe he could do something about a few other annoying traditions around the place ...

After that year, nothing was ever the same in Hogwarts. Later, nothing would be the same with the entire world.

Except for one thing.

Men without wombs still couldn't give birth because the only thing stronger than the laws of magic were the laws of biology.

~o~

Twelve Years Later.

The setting: A private garden full of guests.

The scene: During an unnecessary epilogue which added nothing to the main text and wherein the writer demonstrated an inability to allow even the slightest bit of ambiguity in which the readers could happily draw their own conclusions, a tasteful yet small wedding ceremony occurred somewhere in the Midlands as a Potter said her 'I do' and a Riddle gave back his answer with a smile.

Save for the bride and groom, mostly everyone was, for a few seconds, unwell.

(But rest assured, it was most definitely not due to male pregnancy.)

~o~

FIN


End file.
